


Distracted

by violia



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Shane is oblivious, Vignette, ryan is a sweetie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violia/pseuds/violia
Summary: Ryan has a surprise planned, but Shane has strong opinions about pants that cannot go unacknowledged.





	Distracted

 

“The thing is, Ryan,” Shane says, slamming the car door shut, “No one understands how hard it is to buy jeans when you’re really tall.”

“I’m sure some people understand,” Ryan counters. The car beeps as he locks it, and he walks around to lead Shane towards the building elevator. “You’re not the only person in the world who’s tall.”

“No, I’m not,” Shane agrees. “But I am the only person in the world whose legs are double the length of their torso.”

Ryan presses the up button, and the lift doors open. As they pile in and Ryan hits the button for the fifth floor, Shane sighs and tips his head back against the wall.

“It’s an ordeal,” he continues. “It really is. There are so many things to consider when buying pants - even just for normally-proportioned people. For me, it’s ten times worse.”

“Mhmm,” Ryan murmurs, fiddling with his apartment keys.

“For starters, there’s the length. You can probably relate to these struggles, seeing how short you are.”

“Hey!” Ryan shoots him a look. “I’m average height.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Shane smirks. “Tall people and short people have it tough! Either the pants are too long, or too short. I can’t tell you how many different pairs of pants and jeans I have tried on which look comically short on my legs.”

The elevator dings, and when the doors open they tread down the familiar corridor and stop in front of Ryan’s door.

“Then there’s the waist. Not only am I blessed with freakishly long legs, I also have the smallest hips… ever.” Shane sighs forlornly as Ryan unlocks the door. “Sometimes I find pants that are the perfect length, but the hips are so wide they don’t even touch my skin.”

“Just buy a belt,” Ryan says, pushing the door open. He hangs up his coat while Shane closes the door.

“I can’t! It doesn’t work,” Shane complains. “Even with a super tight belt, the fabric on these pants just bunches up around my hips.”

“Why don’t you take off your warmer clothes and hang them up,” Ryan suggests, taking the keys out of Shane’s outstretched hand. “And just hang around in here for a second, I’ve got to… organise… grab some stuff from the kitchen.”

“Sure,” Shane replies absent-mindedly, too engrossed in his tirade against discriminatory pant-makers. Ryan heads off towards the kitchen while Shane shucks off his coat, hangs in up on a hook next to Ryan’s door, and flops himself onto the couch.

Ryan has a nice living room. It’s the first thing you see when you enter his apartment: a long, comfortable couch situated nicely in front of the TV, amongst bookshelves of novels and nonfiction works and various trinkets. Shane has spent countless evenings with Ryan in this room, on this couch. Most of their time is spent watching documentaries and throwing popcorn at the TV. Some of their time is spent doing… other things.

What can Shane say, it’s a really good couch.

The kitchen and dining areas both branch off the end of the living room, and Shane can hear Ryan rustling around in the kitchen, see him hustling back and forth between the kitchen and dining table. Ryan’s apartment isn’t small, but it’s not massive, either; he can definitely still hear Shane, which means Shane can definitely continue grumbling about pants.

“And so,” he calls out, because this shit is _important_ , okay, “you can see why shopping for pants is so difficult for me. When I find the right length of pant, the waist is too big. When I find a snug waist fit, the pants are too short. It’s a never-ending cycle. A paradox. One day, it’ll get the better of me, I know it.”

“Right,” Ryan says, voice distant as he shuffles around. Shane can hear a clicking noise, the sound of glasses clinking together, but he pays no mind.

“And then to top it all off,” he sits up suddenly, affronted, “when I do find a pair of pants that fit me well and aren’t too short, there’s always just one pair left!”

He shakes his head and stands up again, restless. “You gotta understand - if I find a pair of miracle jeans, pants that actually fit my legs and my ass at the _same_ _time_ , you bet I’m gonna want to buy a few pairs. At least ten. Who knows when I will find good-fitting pants again? But there are never enough! And then I have to re-wear one pair of pants for a week, which, y’know, I’m not totally averse to, but I do start to stink after a while.”

“Wow, that really sucks for you,” Ryan deadpans. He’s finally stopped racing around and is leaning back against one of the chairs at the table, beckoning Shane over.

“I don’t think you’re really understanding the depth of my troubles, here,” Shane remarks, wandering over.

“Oh, I’m understanding perfectly,” Ryan says. He steps forward, grabs one of Shane’s hands, and turns so they’re both facing the table. “I’m understanding that you’re a fucking idiot who can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

Shane blinks down at Ryan, confused, before turning his head and seeing the dining table fully.

Usually, this table is cluttered with piles of papers and folders, random letters and bills, Ryan’s laptop and charging cords and sometimes Shane’s, too. Tonight, all that is gone. A table runner has been rolled down the middle of the table, and there are two places set nicely at one end. There are placemats and cutlery set out properly, two wine glasses and a bottle of red sitting in between them. There’s a candle lit, infusing the air with a heavenly peppermint scent, and Ryan’s dimmed the lights a bit to add to the intimacy.

“Oh,” Shane says softly. He runs a finger along the edge of a chair and stares at the table. “It’s - you made dinner? For me?”

“Yes, you idiot,” Ryan rolls his eyes, but his voice is fond. “If you could just shut up for one minute so that I can make a big romantic gesture, that would be great.”

“Romantic gesture?” Shane murmurs, turning to face Ryan with a twinkle in his eye. “I never took you for a romantic gesture kind of guy.”

“Shut up,” Ryan says, but the corners of his eyes are crinkled in a warm smile as he twists his fingers in Shane’s shirt and pulls him down into a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> I fell into a fever dream and woke up an hour later with this. Unbeta’d because I’m impatient. If there are any mistakes please feel free to point them out. 
> 
> Find me, irregularly, on tumblr vviolia.tumblr.com and twitter twitter.com/violia_


End file.
